


Kyrn.

by ghostlyvibes



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Brendon and Spencer are fairies, Cross-Posted on Quotev, I Don't Even Know, Jon is hella chill and knows shit, LITERALLY, M/M, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:25:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlyvibes/pseuds/ghostlyvibes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Kyrn</i>- n. (kurn) "soulmates" in the language of the Fair Folk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 ::FAR AWAY::  
  
 _My son is unhappy,_  thought Queen Melthusa.  
  
"Brendon?"  
  
"Yes, mother?" Her son tore his gaze away from the window.  
  
"Brendon, honey," Queen Melthusa paused, and attempted to phrase what she wanted to say, "Are you… unhappy?"  
  
"I guess I do feel a bit… mushy. Almost as if… there was a piece of my chest missing and now I'm incomplete."  
  
The queen smiled, it wasn't as she had feared. Her son was unhappy, but that was just because he was ready to meet his  _kyrn_. Although, Brendon would feel this ache until his soulmate was ready to meet him.  
  
::MEANWHILE, FARTHER AWAY::  
  
Ryan's great-great uncle just died. Or rather, Ryan was just finding out about it. It wasn't as if Ryan was all too cracked up about it though. He'd only ever met the old geezer a handful of times in his life and most of those times, his mother had still been alive. Uncle Spencer was a little creepy to be honest, almost as if he was too young yet too old for his body at the same time. The funeral was at five o'clock today, at Rosenburg's Funerary Practice. Which according to a short google search, was a little ways away on his bicycle. Ryan looked down at his outfit, a snug suit and colorful scarves. It was his latest attempt at style, and judging by what the girls at school are saying, his attempts have not gone unnoticed.  
  
Deciding his outfit is semi-appropriate for a funeral, Ryan hops on his bike and rides.

*

Ryan got to Rosenburg's Funerary Practice and noticed the small graveyard in back. He wondered if that was where his great-uncle was to be buried, and it made him sad somehow. The few things he could recall about his uncle is that he seemed like he was trapped, and now he was going to be trapped in the ground forever and the only thing he'd be able to do was rot.  
  
Just the idea of his uncle rotting made him turn back altogether. Nonetheless, he braces himself and enters the building. The first thing he can see is that it's completely empty. The second thing he sees is the sign saying "Spencer Smith", 5:00 PM" in front of a door, he suddenly has a memory of his mother hugging his uncle and calling him "Uncle S". Deciding that that must be the room, he goes inside.  
  
Upon entering, he sees rows and rows of empty pews and a dramatically long walk to the open casket.  _Well, maybe he didn't have friends. He_ was  _kind of bitchy,_ Ryan thought. Ryan slowly makes his way to the casket and when he peers over he doesn't see a gray old man, but a healthy young man. If that wasn't startling enough, the young man opened his eyes and whispered "Boo."  
  
Ryan jumped back and shrieked, and the man in the casket just laughed at him.  
  
"Where's my uncle and what did you do to him?" Ryan tried giving his best scowl and tried to appear bigger that he was.  
  
The man outstretched his hand and said six words Ryan would never forget for as long as he lived, "Spencer Smith, nice to meet you."  
  
Ryan cautiously took his hand and promptly fainted.

 


	2. Chapter 2

When Ryan came to, he was laying on a pew and Spencer was doing a crossword. Spencer looked up from his crossword and said, “Ah, I see you’ve finally decided to wake up from your nap.”

 

Ryan rubbed his head and groaned. “How long have I been out?”

 

“Oh, not long. About,” Spencer looked at his watch, “Four hours. Or at least, in a few minutes. It’s a quarter to nine in case you’re wondering.”  _Four hours? It feels like it was twenty minutes ago,_  Ryan thought,  _OH SHIT. Dad’s going to be pissed when he comes home._

 

“I, um, sorry? But I need to be home, like, now.” Ryan was fluttering about the room, grabbing some of his scarves that had fallen off of his body when he fainted. Just as he was shoving his coat on (or at least attempting to) he suddenly became paralyzed.

 

“Now wait here, young man,” Ryan felt his head being shoved in Spencer’s direction, and Spencer’s eyes were a solid gray, “We have some things discuss and you’re not leaving until we finish talking.”

 

Ryan couldn’t breathe, any second now, he was going to pass out again. That was two times too many. He gathered up every ounce of will he possessed and willed himself to break free.   

 

Suddenly, all the breath returned to his lungs and he fell to the ground, chest heaving. He felt as if he had just ran a marathon. Spencer just smirked at him.

 

“You passed.” Spencer walked over and helped Ryan up.

 

“What?!” Ryan was still panting albeit more quietly than before, “What was that? And what did I pass?”

 

“A test. We were right about you.” Spencer was practically purring.

 

“Could you stop talking damn riddles?! I get it, I passed a test, you were right, you can give me answers or I’ll walk out of the damn building!” Ryan shouted, he couldn’t help it, he was tired, and his dead old uncle was actually a living twenty-something year old whose eyes glowed gray when he paralyzed Ryan. To top it off, he still had to finish an essay for English class and make dinner.

 

Spencer rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. Suddenly they were in a lowly-lit restaurant standing in front of a man who looked to be about Spencer’s age, whatever it actually was. The man was sitting Indian style on a cushion on the floor and Ryan noticed that there was a cushion next to him and another across as well as a kettle of tea on the low table.

 

“Well don’t just stand there,” The barefoot man said, bemused. Spencer was already sitting down next to the man, pouring himself a cup of tea.

 

Ryan sat down awkwardly, trying to fold his long limbs into themselves. “So, um, not that I don’t think this place is nice and stuff but why am I here?”

 

Spencer giggled into his tea. The barefoot man smiled serenely and stretched out his hand, “My name is Jon. Jon Walker. As you most-likely already know, this is Spencer Smith.”

 

Ryan cautiously took his hand, “I’m Ryan Ross, it’s nice to meet you. It still doesn’t answer my question, though, why am I here?”

 

Jon, however, evaded the question, “Have you had the  _batzabouk_? It’s delightful.”

 

“The  _what?_ ”

 

“The  _batzabouk._ It’s the drink in the kettle. It tastes like whatever you want it too. Mine tastes like chai. Spencer?”

 

Spencer giggled again, “Mine tastes moonshine. I’m a little tipsy now.” Ryan had just noticed how Spencer had been near gulping it down.

 

Ryan poured himself a cup and then sipped it. “It tastes like… vanilla cherry coke.”

 

Spencer suddenly sobered up, “It was your mother’s favorite drink, you know?”

 

Jon nodded somberly and Ryan noticed he grabbed Spencer’s hand.

 

“Yeah,” he whispered softly, “She always complained that Pepsi could never get it right.”

 

A man behind them cleared their throat. “ _Monsieur_ Walker, your meal is here. Three other servers appeared out of seemingly nowhere and placed covered plates in front of them. They all simultaneously uncovered the plates. In front of Jon there was a sourdough bread bowl with clam chowder inside. In front of Spencer there was a small plate filled with various kinds of sushi; and in front of Ryan, was his favorite order from the small hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant he loved.

 

Ryan took a hesitant bite and almost moaned, it tasted exactly like the real thing. “What is this place?” he asked, mouth full.

 

“This restaurant is Nowhere and Everywhere, it was started by the Brothers and Sisters of the Order of Nothingness. You’re eating  _Biskimpha._  According to one of the ghosts who belong to order it looks like a smooth brown stone. The Brothers and Sisters take lots of pride in Magick it takes to create  _Biskimpha._ There’s nothing else in the universe like it.”

 

“Magic?” Ryan asked, “What do top hats and bunny rabbits have to do with food?”

 

“No.” Spencer interjected,“ _Not_  M-A-G-I-C like kids’ parties and David Hasselhoff. M-A-G-I-C-K. Like sprites and witches who can destroy villages with a single thought.” 

 

“Spencer is a Fair Folk and holds a Master Warlock’s degree on the History of Magick from The University of Roma. He wrote his dissertation on the parallels of Magick and magic.”

  
“Graduated year of 1145, top of my class.” Spencer threw in smugly.

  
“So is a Master Warlock’s degree like a Master’s degree?" Ryan asked.

  
"Try Ph.D," Spencer said, somehow growing even more smug.  
  
Jon hummed, "Yes we know it's very impressive dear, he wouldn't understand, he's a high school boy."  
  
"Hey!" Ryan protested. What he was actually protesting, no one actually knows.

  
"ANYWAYS," Jon said, attempting to veer them back on topic, "Ryan still doesn't know why he's here."  
  
Jon looked directly into Ryan's eyes, "Ryan, You're Magick. There's no other possible way for you to be here."  
  
"What are you talking about? Magick is cool and all, I guess, but that's not what I am. Look at me!"   
  
Spencer spoke up, "We  _have_ looked at you; Jon can Sense and do Soul Readings; he says you're powerful and I believe him."  
  
"Thanks hon," Jon said softly before speaking to Ryan again, "I'm not sure what you are but I can explain what Spencer and I are. Like Spencer just said, I can Sense and do Soul Readings. Sensing means I know what people's Magickal powers are. For some reason, your's are blocked, Spence and I are trying to figure out why. I can also Read souls. I don't know  _everything_  but I know what you feel, whether it be guilt, joy, remorse, the only catches are I need to have had physical contact with you at least once, and you need to have felt it within the past few months. Soul Readings are difficult to master; you need to be born with the capability in the first place, and even then it takes loads of training to even be able to Read more than a few hours's worth of emotions."  
  
"Jon's one of the best Readers out there." Spencer boasted.  
  
"Eh, that's debatable, but Spencer belongs to one of the oldest and most elite houses of Fair Folk; The Lorebel House. That's why his eyes turn a solid gray, it's their mark. It's also the reason he could Appall you."  
  
"What's Appalling? I mean, he paralyzed me, but I wasn't appalled or anything." Ryan said.  
  
"Oh, that," Spencer said dismissively, "Us Fair Folk have a flair for the dramatic. But I'm thinking you're a powerful... whatever you are. The last person who broke an Appalling from the Lorebel House was Imlor. He massacred thousands of Fair Folk and teamed up with [Gwyllion](en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gwyllion) and ghouls to destroy anybody who crossed his path. It  was bad times, the Lorebel House barely scraped by."  
  
Ryan was silent. The last person who could do what he did, was a murderer. What if he would become like that? What  _was_  he, anyways?


	3. Chapter 3

:FAR AWAY::  
  
Queen Melthusa was beginning to get worried. Brendon had constant fits in his sleep and he would wake up violently thrashing and screaming. This was not just his body saying he was ready to find his  _kyrn_. No, this is something harmful.   
  
"Mother?" Brendon's voice was constantly hoarse now.   
  
"Yes,  _emme?_ "   
  
"Were you supposed to meet with the [Fianna](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fianna) today?" Brendon asked.  
  
"No,  _emme_."  
  
"Mother, I think that is their caravans approaching the palace."  
  
About a second later, a servant burst into the room and gave a hurried bow, "Your Majesty, the Fianna are here and require your presence.  _R_ _ígfénnid_ Kilyn says the matter is of utmost importance, though she would not specify."  
  
"Dismissed." The Queen said.  
  
The servant bowed again and said, "Your Majesty," he turned to Brendon and said, "Your Highness."   
  
" _Emme,_  are you well enough to leave bed?" Melthusa asked.  
  
"Yes mother, and I wish you wouldn't call me  _emme_ , I'm not a child." Brendon said, rather irritably.  
  
"You are coming with me to meet with  _R_ _ígfénnid_ Kilyn so you can learn how to deal with the Fianna." Her Majesty said.  
  
Once they were able to make it downstairs, they saw  _R_ _ígfénnid_ Kilyn right away. As a child, Brendon saw the Fianna pass by a few times a year. Since he could remember there was only Kilyn as  _R_ _ígfénnid._ And for as long as he could remember, he's never seen her afraid. She was a fierce warrior, which meant there was no time for silly things like being visibly afraid. Yet here she was, and for the first time in Brendon's life, she was terrified.  
  
The Queen clearly had similar sentiments because she asked the  _R_ _ígfénnid,_  "Kilyn, what's wrong?"  
  
Kilyn looked so fragile; if there had been wind in the palace, she would have toppled over and shattered into a million pieces.  
  
"Your Majesty," She whispered hoarsely, "I come seeking protection for my warriors. We were recently attacked by a group of  _Sime'ad_." The Queen gasped, "A portion of my  _énnids_  are Fair Folk. Though we are not apart of the Lorebel House we plead that you will consider protecting us."  
  
Queen Melthusa asked, "Are you certain that it was  _Sime'ad_ that attacked you, not a group of raiders?"  
  
Kilyn nodded, "I'm certain. We managed to kill one, but not before I lost three of my warriors. The beast carried His mark."  
  
"Do you still have the body?"   
  
"Yes, Your Majesty."  
  
Queen Melthusa turned to her son, "Brendon, have a servant bring you up to your rooms.  _R_ _ígfénnid,_ could you be so kind as to allow me to verify the body?"


End file.
